


the sudden wave of silver

by Quintessence



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Pining, if a plot ain't broke don't fix it, the classic 'one asks the other out & the other thinks it's a joke' fanfic plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: “'Tadashi, I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me.  On a date.'Kei at least looks Yamaguchi in the eye when he says it, and holds his gaze despite every instinct telling him to stare determinedly at the floor.  For a moment, they’re both perfectly still and silent, Kei hardly daring to breathe.  Several expressions pass over Yamaguchi’s face in quick succession--first his eyes widen, then his mouth parts slightly, then his eyebrows raise, and then they lower, scrunching tight together, then the corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, and then…He laughs."Yamaguchi assumes Tsukishima's genuine love confession is merely a joke, albeit a hurtful one, and laughs it off.  As one might expect, neither of them take this particularly well.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 72
Kudos: 338





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends!!!!! i hope you can forgive me for dipping my toes into another fandom--these volleyball idiots have captured my heart & i absolutely needed to write something for them.
> 
> title is from the same pablo neruda poem i used as the epigraph (yes, i used a pablo neruda poem as the epigraph for my sports anime fanfiction & absolutely no one can stop me)
> 
> there is a second chapter to this coming hopefully soon, so pls know it doesn't end here!!!
> 
> no warnings for this one other than a lot of emotional stupidity.
> 
> pls enjoy, my friends!!!!

_Laugh at the night,_

_at the day, at the moon,_

_laugh at the twisted_

_streets of the island,_

_laugh at this clumsy_

_boy who loves you_

Your Laughter, Pablo Neruda

Kei isn’t someone who generally gets nervous.

For the most part, he keeps a clear and level head about things, approaching a situation from a place of logic and reason rather than getting caught up in unnecessary emotional turmoil. There simply isn’t much utility in anxiety, no obvious benefit or advantage, and Kei is nothing if not utilitarian.

But there’s no other word to describe how he’s feeling now. His stomach is hot and tense, squeezing in on itself so tightly he can feel the acid rising in the back of his throat. His muscles are clenched and trembling to the point that they don’t seem to fit inside his skin anymore. He’s beginning to give himself a headache from how badly he’s grinding his teeth. But the absolute worst of it is his useless, traitorous heart, pounding away beneath his sternum so hard and fast that he’s begun to get lightheaded. He swiftly and firmly presses his hand against his chest, as if he could somehow command it to slow down through force alone.

Kei understands the evolutionary advantage behind all of these sensations. He feels sick to his stomach because his body is diverting blood away from his digestive system to better oxygenate his muscles and brain. His muscles are tense because they’re preparing for him to run or fight, faster and harder than usual. His heart is racing to improve his circulation, getting his blood pumping as quickly as possible for an extra degree of strength or speed. All of it is meant to prepare him for an attack from a predator, to help him either to run away or fight it off. Which just makes all of this unbelievably stupid, because he isn’t in any immediate danger whatsoever. He’s simply waiting outside the club room for Yamaguchi. And he’s simply going to ask him a question.

That’s all this is, he tells his body sternly. His life isn’t at risk. There’s no need to fight or flee. He’s just going to ask a single question. So this whole complicated physiological response, this insistence his body has on preparing him for an imagined attack, is really a pretty absurd overreaction.

Fine, it’s a question Kei’s been thinking over for months, and yes, he’s putting a fair amount on the line by asking it, but there’s still no need for his body to respond like this. He isn’t in any true danger. The only thing at risk here is some hurt feelings, and while that would certainly be unpleasant, it wouldn’t actually kill him.

But regardless of how much he tries to talk some sense into it, Kei’s body is clearly committed to this ridiculous, unnecessary fight or flight routine, because Yamaguchi finally steps out of the club room and Kei’s vision actually tunnels. He’s never experienced anything like it before, but suddenly everything goes dark around the periphery, closing in tighter and tighter and bringing Yamaguchi into excruciating focus. He’s still flushed red from the exertion of practice, and it somehow makes his freckles stand out even darker. It’s all Kei can do not to reach out a hand and gently strokes his thumb over them, carefully cradling Yamaguchi’s face as if he were something unbearably fragile. And it only gets worse from there, because the flush continues down his neck and onto his chest, where he’s left the top two buttons of his uniform shirt open, likely to help cool himself down. Kei catches the smallest glimpse of his exposed, impossibly delicate collarbone and all but stops breathing. The need to press his lips to it is sudden and overwhelming. He’d be so gentle about it, just barely touching Yamaguchi’s skin, so soft and so slow. And Yamaguchi might gasp when he did it, so quietly Kei could hardly be sure he heard, and then Kei could push his shirt back a little farther to expose his shoulder and--

“Ready to go, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks brightly, flashing him a wide, earnest smile. Kei starts slightly, breaking from his reverie. He’d gotten so lost in thought, so enraptured by every visible inch of Yamaguchi’s flushed skin, that he’d nearly forgotten what he came here for in the first place.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you,” Kei says. His voice comes out lower and gravlier than usual, but right now, it’s the best he can do.

Yamaguchi furrows his brow.

“Of course. Is something wrong?”

Kei swallows, his mouth going dry. This ridiculous terror finally reaches its crescendo, his heart swelling uncomfortably large and hot in his chest, his lungs constricting tighter and tighter until the air is all but squeezed out of him

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he says softly.

He just needs to say it. It’ll be like vomiting, he imagines. The build up is torture, and the process itself is undeniably awful, but he’ll feel better once it’s over and done with. He just needs to say it, and even though he’ll be left trembling and sweating in the aftermath, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand with a grimace, it’ll be a relief when it’s all finally out.

“Tadashi, I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. On a date.”

Kei at least looks Yamaguchi in the eye when he says it, and holds his gaze despite every instinct telling him to stare determinedly at the floor. For a moment, they’re both perfectly still and silent, Kei hardly daring to breathe. Several expressions pass over Yamaguchi’s face in quick succession--first his eyes widen, then his mouth parts slightly, then his eyebrows raise, and then they lower, scrunching tight together, then the corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, and then…

He laughs.

For a moment, Kei half-believes he misheard. Perhaps he caught a snatch of a passing conversation, and someone simply happened to laugh at just the right time. Or maybe he overheard some of the horseplay of the teammates still changing in the club room. Perhaps something like that really would be possible. It could, couldn’t it? 

But despite his best efforts, Kei can’t hold onto that delusion for very long, because there’s really no mistaking it. Yamaguchi laughed. That warm, amiable laugh he always has when Kei makes a wry joke. 

All at once, Kei’s body goes horribly heavy and cold. He’d finally said it, what he’d been working up to for months now, finally laid everything bare, and Yamaguchi had just _laughed._ Outright. He’d just laughed at him.

“We should stop by the convenience store on the way home,” Yamaguchi says brightly. “I’m really in the mood for a soda.”

And with that, he heads down the stairs, jumping over the last three, as if the entire conversation had never happened.

Kei isn’t sure he can follow him. He doesn’t mean it figuratively--it’s not a matter of humiliation or hurt. His body has simply gone so impossibly heavy that he isn’t sure he can lift his foot enough to descend the stairs. Gravity has suddenly tripled its force on Kei alone, and it’s all he can do to keep standing upright with how badly he’s being weighed down. The anxiety was unpleasant, but at least there was a strange buoyancy to it. At least it didn’t seep into his limbs so deeply that he can’t bring himself to move.

“Tsukki, are you coming?” Yamaguchi calls up to him.

Kei clenches his fists hard at his sides. He has to follow him; if he lets Yamaguchi see how much this is affecting him, it’ll only feel worse. He just has to gather all his strength, every last bit he has, to lift his right foot enough to set it down on the stair. And then he has to work up that same energy, that same herculean effort, to take a step with his left foot. And then he just has to do that, perform that unfathomable feat of strength, two thousand more times until he’s home. Just two thousand or so more impossible steps. That’s all.

* * *

Tadashi knows he has no right to feel like this.

As he bids Tsukki goodnight at the place their walks home diverge, the feeling is overwhelming. His throat is uncomfortably tight, as if someone were squeezing it hard in their hand, and his limbs have gone weak and shaky, and the whole of his body is flushed far too hot. It was all he could do to keep up friendly conversation as they stopped into the convenience store, all he could do to ensure his tone stayed pleasant and unstrained as they waited at the bus stop. And Tadashi has no right to any of it, because this whole thing was just a joke.

Tsukki doesn’t know how Tadashi feels. He had no way of predicting exactly how deeply it would hurt for him to tease like that. Tsukki wouldn’t do that kind of thing if he knew--of course he wouldn’t--so it’s really Tadashi’s fault for being such a coward that he’s kept everything secret for years.

That moment, though. The one just before he caught on to the joke, the one where he thought it might be real. It had been unlike anything Tadashi had ever felt before. The closest approximation he has is the feeling of hurrying down the stairs and missing the last step in the dark, that unsteadiness and terror as his stomach went hollow and his heart leapt into his throat. But it was the good sort of terror, the kind that felt more like excitement than anything else, more like a joyful thrum of adrenaline just beneath his skin. But of course a person only misses a step for a second, of course his foot found the ground again and the feeling suddenly dissipated, leaving him cold and empty and trembling slightly in the aftermath.

That realization, that split-second understanding that Tsukki was only teasing him, was for the best. Really, it was. For as awful and shaky and weak as Tadashi feels right now, no doubt it would’ve been worse if he’d taken Tsukki seriously. It’s almost too humiliating even to imagine. He would’ve said something unbearably embarrassing, something reverent and awestruck like, “Yes, Tsukki. Yes. I’ve wanted to ask you that for years. Let’s go right now. Somewhere’s bound to still be open, right? I don’t want to wait even a second more. We’ll go immediately.”

Or, even worse, Tadashi might’ve tried to kiss him. He buries his face in his hands just at the idea, shame burning hot in his chest. He knows exactly how he would’ve done it, because he’s imagined it hundreds of times by now--thousands, maybe. He would grab Tsukki’s shirt tight in his fists and pull him down until their faces were level, and then he’d do it quickly, just the briefest press of his mouth against Tsukki’s. But when he’d pull back, he’d linger for a moment, pressing their foreheads together, Tsukki’s collar still bunched in his fists.

But of course, it wouldn’t have gone like it usually does in Tadashi’s imagination. Tsukki wouldn’t have stopped with his forehead pressed against Tadashi’s for a few long moments, breath suddenly loud and ragged. And he wouldn’t then surge forward insistently, cradling Tadashi’s face in his hands and kissing him again, but longer this time, and slower, and so much more desperately. No, it wouldn’t have gone like that at all. Instead, Tsukki would have shoved Tadashi away sharply, and he would step backwards himself, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as he could. And his nose would scrunch up the way it always does when someone does something he finds especially stupid, and he’d say something like, “What on _earth_ do you think you’re doing?” And Tadashi wouldn’t have an answer for him.

So for as horrible as Tadashi feels now, for as much as the whole thing has left him feeling like every inch of his body has been scraped raw, catching on to the joke as quickly as he did was really for the best.

Tadashi lingers for a moment beneath the streetlight near his house, gnawing his bottom lip. It just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing Tsukki would joke about. It seems too cruel. And yes, Tsukki can be rude and standoffish and sardonic at times, but he’s never really, truly cruel. Especially not to Tadashi.

But then again, it probably didn’t seem like that to Tsukki. He couldn’t have any idea how Tadashi feels, so he didn’t mean anything by it. He was only teasing, and they tease each other plenty. He had no way of knowing how much it would eat at Tadashi, gnawing steadily beneath his sternum and deep into his ribcage. He had no way of knowing that Tadashi all but aches with it, how unattainable Tsukki is to someone like him. Tsukki surely doesn’t see the situation for what it is, doesn’t see how he’s utterly extraordinary and how Tadashi is wholly unremarkable in every way, and how he knows Tsukki would never look at him twice. No, Tsukki has no way of knowing any of that, so of course it wasn’t meant to be cruel. It was really a joke, a joke that Tadashi just happens to be taking a little too hard.

But that mantra--”It was just a joke”--is not nearly as much comfort as Tadashi would like it to be. He repeats it as he heads into the house, and as he takes the plate his mom left for him out of the refrigerator and heats it up in the microwave. “It was just a joke.” And as he takes a shower, far longer and hotter than usual. “It was just a joke.” And as he lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. “It was just a joke.” He repeats it over and over into the night, for all the good it does; it’s precious little comfort in the face of that hot, shaky, weak feeling that’s been plaguing him since the conversation outside the clubroom. But there isn’t much else he can do at this point, so he simply tells it to himself unceasingly until well past three in the morning, when he at last mercifully, finally falls asleep.

* * *

Kei isn’t proud of it, but when he gets home, he cries.

He doesn’t make a scene about it, no big, overdramatic sobs or unnecessary wailing or anything. He simply sits up straight on the edge of his bed, hands clenched into fists atop his thighs, as tears run down his face. He’s feeling too many things to tease them all out individually--it’s simply a tangle of hurt and betrayal and heartbreak and probably a half-dozen more undefinable emotions pulsing painfully in his stomach.

Kei had prepared himself for rejection. He knew he was taking a risk, that there was a very good chance that Yamaguchi wouldn’t return his feelings, and he’d made his peace with it. He’d imagined that if it happened, Yamaguchi would do it kindly and gently, because Yamaguchi is nothing if not kind and gentle. He’d do his best to let Kei down easy, to explain that he didn’t feel the same, but nothing has to change between them, and that the most important thing would be that they could stay friends. When Kei had imagined it, it had hurt. Of course it had. But it had been a bearable hurt. Because he was certain Yamaguchi would do his utmost to make it bearable.

Kei hadn’t, however, prepared himself for this. For Yamaguchi to simply laugh at him and then turn away as if nothing had happened, saying something about how he was in the mood for a soda on the way home. Kei has no delusions of entitlement. He knows Yamaguchi doesn’t owe it to him to return his feelings. But surely he’s owed something better than outright laughter.

It just really doesn’t seem like the sort of thing Yamaguchi would do, to laugh at Kei in a moment of vulnerability. In all the time they’ve known each other, the years and years, Yamaguchi has never been outright cruel like that. Unless maybe Kei is missing the joke somehow, unless it really is utterly laughable for him to think his feelings would ever be returned, to think he ever stood a chance with any of this. What exactly does Kei have to offer Yamaguchi, now that he thinks about it? He’s cranky and moody and not much fun to be around. It really is a miracle Yamaguchi has remained his friend for so long, given how few redeeming qualities Kei has, given how Yamaguchi is every good thing that Kei’s not. Maybe the laughter wasn’t meant to be mean; maybe it was just an honest, uncontrollable reaction to such a completely ridiculous request. Somehow, that thought just feels even worse.

Kei wipes roughly at his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform shirt. The thought of seeing Yamaguchi at school tomorrow fills him with a sick, churning dread. He’ll have to pretend that everything’s fine, make idle chit chat during lunch and joke around between classes, as if he doesn’t feel like all his insides have been scraped out with a spoon. And they’ll have to go to volleyball practice after school, and he’ll somehow have to muster up enough focus to practice serves and blocks without being distracted by Yamaguchi’s every move. And they’ll have to change in and out of their practice clothes in the club room. Kei clenches his fists tighter. Surely that sort of thing is going to make Yamaguchi uncomfortable now. He’d never admit it, because he wouldn’t want to hurt Kei like that, but Kei will know all the same.

Studying is most likely out of the question tonight--Kei knows he won’t be able to retain any information in this state--so he indulges in a habit he had in his overdramatic middle school days. He turns off the lights in his bedroom, puts on his headphones, lies down on his bed, closes his eyes, and turns up the music so loud it drowns out his thoughts. He lies still on his back, focusing on nothing but the familiar songs playing over his headphones and the rise and fall of his chest. At the beginning, his breathing is unsteady, his ribcage hitching slightly on each inhale, but over time, it relaxes. The longer he lies there, unmoving, unthinking, the more that painful tangle into his stomach dulls into a persistent but tolerable ache. Provided he lies perfectly still and focuses on nothing but the songs playing over his headphones, the pain is largely bearable. As long as he pretends that this is it, that there’s nothing more than the dark and the music and his breathing, he’s able to calm down. If he ignores the thought of tomorrow, the thought of Yamaguchi and volleyball practice and changing in the club room, the weight pressing down on his chest eases. It does. Really, it does. And eventually, after several long hours, he’s even able to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy pals!!!!!! i had an absolutely stupid amount of fun writing this chapter, so i really really hope you enjoy it!!!!!
> 
> there's a brief discussion of past bullying, but other than that, no real warnings.
> 
> happy reading!!!!!

“Look alive, Yamaguchi!” Ukai shouts as Tadashi just manages to step out of the way, narrowly avoiding taking a ball to the face for the fourth time today. The ball lands squarely on the floor of their court and Ukai blows his whistle, giving the point to the opposing team of their three-on-three practice game.

Ukai rubs his temple and sighs.

“Is this going around or something?” he asks. “You and Tsukishima have both been complete disasters today.”

Tadashi steals a glance at Tsukki sitting at the side of the court, his heart inexplicably pounding in his chest. Tsukki determinedly refuses to look in Tadashi’s or Ukai’s direction.

“You know, if it were my grandad, he’d make the both of you do a lap of diving drills to try to clear your heads,” Ukai continues. “I, however, am a far more benevolent coach, and won’t subject you to that. But what I will do is ask you both to pull it together for the remainder of practice. I know that as high school students, everyone here is dealing with a lot of stress. Really, I get it. But for just the few hours a day that we’re practicing, I request that you leave it at the door. When you’re in this gym, all that matters is playing volleyball. Those problems will still be there when you leave, so consider this a short break from thinking about them, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Tadashi says, bowing slightly. The scolding was relatively mild, all things considered, but Tadashi’s cheeks still grow warm.

“Tsukishima?”

Tsukki still pointedly doesn’t look at Ukai or Tadashi, but raises a swift thumbs up.

“Alright,” Ukai says, clapping his hands together sharply. “Back to it.”

But for all Ukai’s admonishments about ignoring their personal problems for the duration of practice, Tadashi’s mind can’t help but wander. He manages to pay enough attention to his surroundings not to draw Ukai’s ire again, but whenever he has a moment or two to think, whether sitting on the sidelines during his teammates’ games or doing simple, repetitive conditioning exercises, he turns Ukai’s words over in his mind. Particularly the part about Tsukki not seeming like himself.

For as much as Tadashi has tried to ignore it, there’s really no denying it much longer--Tsukki hasn’t been quite right since their conversation last night. He’s been more distant, and more withdrawn, and grumpier than usual. During lunch, he’d hardly said two words to Tadashi, and he hadn’t walked to practice with him like they usually do. No, by the time Tadashi had entered the gym, Tsukki was already in his practice clothes and warming up, hardly lifting his head in acknowledgement when Tadashi greeted him. Tadashi had done his utmost to rationalize it, to say that perhaps Tsukki was simply having a bad day or was worried about their chemistry test coming up at the end of the week. It was easier that way. Easier than acknowledging the truth.

The truth that Tsukki must know. He must know how Tadashi feels.

It makes sense when he thinks about it. Tadashi knows he had a split second before he realized Tsukki was only teasing, and no doubt something had shown on his face in that moment, something eager and delighted and disarmed. Tsukki’s always been good at reading people, and Tadashi especially. He must have realized how Tadashi feels. And he clearly can’t stand it, clearly finds the whole thing so extremely distasteful that he feels the need to put some very deliberate distance between the two of them.

Tadashi’s lungs fill with something thick and acrid at the thought, nearly choking him. He couldn’t be satisfied with good enough, could he? He couldn’t just be grateful for Tsukki’s friendship, for their laughter and fun and companionship. No, he’d wanted more. That shameful, unforgivable desire had consumed him, the need to lay his head in Tsukki’s lap, or hold his hand, lacing their fingers together tightly, or press up against his side, pulling one of Tsukki’s arms around his shoulders. And because he’d let himself want like this unfettered, because he hadn’t made the first effort to rein himself in, he’d gone and ruined everything. Tsukki’s too smart for Tadashi to fool him for long, and he must’ve finally put every damning piece together last night. And he clearly can’t stand it.

Tadashi doesn’t want to lose Tsukki. More than anything, he just doesn’t want to lose him. He imagines it would be like suddenly losing a sense, no preparation or preamble, simply waking up one day without his sight. His whole life would have to rearrange itself to accommodate the loss, everything he’d known and taken for granted would no longer be a sure thing. He’d be left reeling, unmoored, trying to figure out how to live without something so utterly essential. Except it would be far worse than losing his sight, because Tadashi knows people acclimate to that sort of thing eventually. Yes, there’s a period of adjustment that can prove difficult, but in time, people accept the change and continue living, just the same as before. Losing Tsukki wouldn’t be like that. There would be no adapting to that particular loss, no making his peace with it and moving forward. It would leave him utterly gutted for as long as he can imagine.

He has to find a way to smooth things over with Tsukki. Soon. Tadashi doesn’t want this to tear a rift between the two of them, pulling them farther and farther apart on opposite sides of an unbridgeable divide. He’ll find some way to fix things, some way to repent for the shameful enormity of his desire. Some way to earn Tsukki’s forgiveness and put all of this behind them. He’ll make it right. He will.

But Tadashi’s worst fears are confirmed when he returns to the clubroom after practice to change and finds Tsukki quite notably absent.

“Do you know where Tsukki went?” he asks Tanaka, pulling his t-shirt over his head and doing his utmost to sound nonchalant.

Tanaka looks up from where he’s buttoning his uniform shirt, brow furrowed.

“He said something about wanting to change in the bathroom. Made one of his classic quips about how the clubroom smells like the inside of a sweaty gym sock when we’re all in here getting changed.” Tanaka shakes his head. “He’s always so fussy about stupid things like that.”

All at once, the room warps and twists around Tadashi, nearly throwing him off balance. His stomach lurches from the sudden motion sickness, clenching and churning dangerously. No. This is exactly what he’d feared. Tsukki knows. He has to know. And he finds the whole thing so repugnant that he no longer wants to get undressed around Tadashi. There’s no other explanation. Why else would Tsukki choose to cram himself into a tiny bathroom stall rather than change in the comfort of the clubroom? Why else other than to avoid Tadashi?

Tadashi grips the door of his locker to try to keep himself upright, the ground still warping beneath his feet. He has to make this right somehow. He has to go and apologize to Tsukki immediately and at least begin to fix this. He has to convince Tsukki to stay; he doesn’t want to consider the alternative.

So Tadashi gets changed as quickly as he can with his badly shaking hands, hastily stuffs his belongings into his school bag, and then pauses for a moment, his head pressed against the cool metal of the locker. Find Tsukki and make it right. He repeats the command to himself over and over again, the simple, straightforward imperative oddly comforting. That’s all he has to do. Find Tsukki and make it right.

* * *

Kei waits for Yamaguchi at the base of the stairs. He’d started outside the clubroom, but that had proved too bitter a reminder of the last time he’d stood there waiting for him. Hovering just outside the door, he recalled far too vividly the terror and excitement and quiet, undeniable hope he’d felt yesterday, and how suddenly and irreparably they’d all been shattered. It’s easier to wait here at the bottom of the stairs, away from the reminders of yesterday’s conversation. It’s easier to pretend things are fine this way, to lean up against the wall with very deliberate nonchalance as Yamaguchi descends the stairs, sprinting over them two at a time.

“You’re certainly in a hurry,” Kei remarks dryly as Yamaguchi skids to a halt in front of him. He has that look on his face, with the scrunched brow and clenched jaw, the one that means he has something important to say. Kei’s useless heart begins to pound in his chest, despite his admonishments. He can’t help but imagine that maybe Yamaguchi has come to tell him that he reconsidered Kei’s offer, and that he’s willing to give him a chance. That’s all it would be--a chance. Not a promise or a commitment or even an agreement. Just one chance for Kei to do things right.

Yamaguchi takes a deep breath, looking up at Kei with those wide, earnest eyes.

“If anyone should get changed in the bathroom, it should be me.”

The weight that suddenly plunges into Kei’s stomach is heavy and cold and utterly sickening.

“We’re not having this conversation,” he says flatly. “Let’s go home. It’s late.”

Kei spins on his heel and begins walking stiffly towards the school gates, hands clenched tight at his sides. It helps conceal some of the trembling.

Yamaguchi jogs up behind Kei and grabs the sleeve of his uniform. Kei swiftly and sharply shakes him off, but he does stop walking, turning back to face Yamaguchi. He stands just a half-step too close, so that the difference in their height is apparent and Yamaguchi is forced to tilt his head upwards to look Kei in the eye. Kei doesn’t usually use his height like this, especially not with Yamaguchi, but he’s desperate and cornered and it’s making him willing to fight dirty.

Yamaguchi does indeed tilt his neck to look up at Kei, with an expression Kei’s seen a thousand times before. It’s the one that’s equal parts brave and terrified, so distinctive that it’s evident even in the dark. It’s the one Yamaguchi always has when he’s trying his hardest to push his fear down somewhere deep and quiet and do something he has to do.

“Tsukki, I’m sorry, but we need to have this conversation. I… I know you know how I feel about you. And I want us to find a way to move forward from this. Whatever you want me to do to make it right, tell me. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

Something hot and viscous bubbles in Kei’s stomach, although he isn’t sure what. Anger? Fear? Humiliation? Want? Whatever it is, it’s thick and overpowering, making Kei’s mouth water as if he were about to be sick.

“I am well aware of how you feel about me, Yamaguchi, and you don’t owe me an apology for it,” Kei says, doing his utmost to sound as disdainful and contemptuous as he can. “Neither of us can change how we feel, so there isn’t any use discussing it further. Let’s go.”

Tears gather in Yamaguchi’s eyes, making them shine wet and overbright. Kei frowns; he isn’t sure what Yamaguchi has to be crying about. Between the two of them, he’s pretty certain that he’s the one with the right to be upset over this. Maybe it’s guilt. That would be just like Yamaguchi, to feel so awful for how he treated Kei yesterday that he actually ends up crying over it. The sudden wave of affection Kei feels for him is extraordinarily irritating.

“No,” Yamaguchi says, his voice unsteady. “You’re my best friend. You’ve been my best friend for practically as long as I can remember. I’m not going to let this change things between us. Okay? I’m just not. So tell me what I need to do to fix it and I will.”

All at once, the whole of Kei’s body flushes far too hot, until he can practically feel his heartbeat on every inch of his skin.

“I don’t need you _pity,_ Yamaguchi,” he spits. “You don’t need to figure out a way to soften the blow because you feel sorry for me. Fine, maybe I wish you hadn’t outright laughed at me, but that’s in the past, so there isn’t any use dwelling on it.”

Yamaguchi blinks, twice, his brow furrowing.

“But it was a joke,” he says slowly. “I thought laughing was what you wanted me to do.”

For a moment, Kei simply stares. His heart begins to pound in his chest, but in a hopeful, eager sort of way, and his stomach goes thrillingly hollow. If Yamaguchi is saying what Kei thinks he’s saying, then that means...

“Wait, you thought that was a joke?” Kei says, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Yamaguchi nods, unbearably earnest.

“Yes, I know you were just teasing. And I’m sorry that my feelings got caught up in a harmless joke like that. You have to believe me, Tsukki. I’m so, so sorry.”

Yamaguchi’s voice cracks at the very end and Kei is overcome with the strangest mix of fondness and exasperation. Here he is, this magnificent, indescribably stupid boy, on the verge of tears because he thought Kei had played a cruel joke on him that had somehow betrayed his feelings. And here he is, apologizing and begging over and over for the chance to make things right, as if love is the sort of thing that has to be atoned for.

And then the entirety of the last twenty-four hours catches up to Kei at once--the heartbreak and the humiliation and the hurt and the anger and now the slow, ever-growing wonder--and he simply can’t hold back any longer. He takes his hand and places it on the back of Yamaguchi’s neck and pulls him forward so that their foreheads are pressed together. Yamaguchi’s skin is so warm against his own, and the hair that brushes Kei’s fingers on his neck is so soft, and his freckles are so perfectly prominent, and Kei suddenly struggles to breathe.

“Yamaguchi, you are so unbelievably stupid,” he murmurs.

And then the fondness overwhelms him again, but stronger this time, burning so warm and bright in his chest that he needs somewhere to go with all of it, so he leans forward slowly, his eyes closed and his other hand coming up to cradle Yamaguchi’s jaw. He strokes his cheek gently, just like he’d imagined yesterday, and it’s every bit as good as he’d thought it would be. Better, even.

And then Yamaguchi gasps slightly, as if he’s just now caught on to what’s happening, and then he suddenly grabs Kei’s shirt tight in his fists and pulls him down and kisses him.

Kissing always struck Kei as the sort of thing that was probably highly overrated. Sure, it seemed fine, he supposed. Fun, even, in moderation. But he’d never really understood the songs about it, or the big, dramatic scenes in movies, or any of the fuss people tended to make. It couldn’t be nearly as important as people made it out to be. But as he kisses Yamaguchi, slowly and gently, he realizes he was wrong. Very wrong. Kissing is the single most enrapturing experience of his life. The softness of Yamaguchi’s skin beneath his hands, the warmth of his mouth, the eager, pleased sound he makes when Kei wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him even closer. All of it is entirely unlike anything he’s ever known, and infinitely better. In general, Kei isn’t the sort of person who enjoys being proven wrong. But he supposes that this can be the exception.

At last, Kei pulls back, but he keeps his hand on Yamaguchi’s jaw and still holds him close with the other. It takes Yamaguchi a long moment before he at last opens his eyes, and when he does, they’re darker than Kei has ever seen them.

“Did that seem like a joke to you?” Kei murmurs.

For a moment, Yamaguchi simply stares up at him, dazed and blinking slowly, before the haze clears and his eyes go wide in shock and panic.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Tsukki, I’m so sorry. You were serious. You were completely serious. And I just _laughed_ at you. Oh my god, I’m the worst person in the world.”

Kei laughs in spite of himself. He likes when Yamaguchi gets flustered more than he should.

“Okay, just so I have this straight--you thought I was kidding when I asked you out. And you thought through that joke, I somehow figured out you had feelings for me and wasn’t happy about it. And that’s what all this has been about.”

Yamaguchi leans forward to rest his head against Kei’s chest, hiding his face, and nods. The pressure and warmth of Yamaguchi against his ribcage makes something warm and delighted clench in Kei’s chest.

“And you thought I had just laughed off your genuine confession. Oh my god, how could I have done that to you? You must’ve felt horrible.”

Kei strokes Yamaguchi’s hair, his head still pressed against Kei’s chest.

“It certainly wasn’t the most pleasant experience of my life,” Kei admits. “But I guess I just don’t get why you took it like that. Nothing I said or did indicated I was joking.”

For a long moment, Yamaguchi is quiet, still pressed against Kei’s chest, until he at last pulls back, eyes trained on the ground.

“People have just, you know, done that sort of thing before. It was worst in middle school, but it still happens occasionally. Someone, usually someone way out of my league, comes up and asks me out. And they’re serious about it and everything. But if I say yes, if I even look happy or excited about it in any way, they just start laughing, usually with their friends who just so happened to be listening in. And I mean, I get the joke. The idea that someone cool or popular would want to go out with me is pretty laughable. So after a while, I stopped falling for it and laughed first. It didn’t make the prank feel good or anything, but it spared me the worst of the embarrassment.”

Kei, overcome with an impulse he can neither explain nor deny, leans forward and presses a kiss to Yamaguchi’s forehead. Yamaguchi gasps, just barely audible.

“They’re idiots,” he says fiercely. “Anyone who ever treated you like that. They’re probably too stupid to function in human society.”

Yamaguchi lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh. He’s still held in Kei’s arms, and Kei feels it as much as he hears it. That notion is strangely thrilling.

“I’m still sorry, though. I should’ve known you wouldn’t do something like that to me. I should’ve used even an ounce of common sense.”

“Hmm,” Kei says, mock-contemplative. “I think you’re right. You should be sorry. So I’m gonna need you to make it up to me.”

Yamaguchi blinks.

“O-oh, of course, Tsukki. I meant it when I said I wanted to make things right between us.”

Kei can’t completely keep the smirk off his face.

“Good. Then you’re going to take me out for ramen this weekend. If you do that, we’ll be square.”

Yamaguchi throws his head back and laughs, bright and delighted.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

And then Kei, half because he desperately wants to, and half just because he can, leans down to kiss the laughter right from his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you so so very much for reading!!!! comments are never required but always deeply appreciated & i respond to each one!!!! i'm also available via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hey and/or watch me liveblog my descent into anime volleyball hell.
> 
> take good care until i see you all again!!!!! xo


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